


Can We Pretend To Leave? And Then We'll Meet Again

by misspunkrock



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Letters, M/M, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protectiveness, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspunkrock/pseuds/misspunkrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is Bucky hadn’t the slightest clue when it first began. </p>
<p>Maybe it was when he was old enough to understand what the meaning of the word desire was. Maybe it was when he saw that crooked smile for the first time and really noticed the brightness that was barely contained behind blue eyes. Maybe it was when they had to start sharing a bed together in the winter because their too small apartment got far too drafty. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or in which Bucky writes Steve notes and Steve finds them years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well If You Wanted Honesty

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Can We Pretend To Leave? And Then We'll Meet Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737032) by [junedune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junedune/pseuds/junedune), [misspunkrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspunkrock/pseuds/misspunkrock)



> I was having way too many Winter Soldier feelings and then this happened.
> 
> Title inspired by MyChem's "Helena"
> 
> If you want you can find me on [tumblr](http://thebuckyrogers.tumblr.com/)
> 
>    
>  ****PLEASE READ THIS QUICK NOTE!****
> 
> A few people have said they've had trouble seeing the notes Bucky writes in this so I made a [tumblr post here](http://thebuckyrogers.tumblr.com/post/103432948661/hey-so-the-pictures-havent-been-showing-up-on) with all of them in order.
> 
> And if you want to check out some absolutely lovely fanart [for this fic here](http://pain-art.tumblr.com/post/85350350557/drawings-inspired-by-this-fic-by-its-amazing) by this [great artist!](http://prohibited-affairs.tumblr.com/)

The thing is Bucky hadn’t the slightest clue when it first began.

Maybe it was when he was old enough to understand what the meaning of the word _desire_ was. Maybe it was when he saw that crooked smile for the first time and noticed the brightness that was barely contained behind blue eyes. Maybe it was when they had to start sharing a bed together in the winter because their apartment got far too drafty.

Or maybe it all started when they were both young and their biggest concern was how they were going to get out of taking their next bath (no matter what Sister Agnes said the water was always lukewarm at best and they were going to go back outside and dirty themselves up again anyway); when, at the wise age of eight, Bucky decided it was his responsibility to look out for Steve. Even as a child Steve had strong opinions.

Bucky remembered seeing Steve for the first time on the orphanage grounds, helping up a crying girl who had been pushed into the muddy ground. He had looked fearless as he stared up at the bully before him. Bucky can’t remember exactly how the situation had devolved from there but before he knew it that tiny blonde boy was on the ground and Bucky was running over because he was getting _back up again_ and didn’t that kid know the smart thing to do was just to stay down?

He remembered pulling him up off the ground. After landing a solid kick to that other boy’s shins he said, “Ain’t anybody ever told you not to pick fights with boys bigger than you?” his Brooklyn accent thick.

Steve had stared back at him and said, “He ought to have said sorry to that girl. He was bein' a bully and somebody had to stop him,” as if it was the simplest thing in the world. To Steve it probably was.

“That doesn’t mean you should be the one stoppin’ him, ‘specially you. You look like a breeze could knock you right over” He gestured to Steve’s unimpressive frame. Steve brushed some dirt off his trousers and then stood up straight, pointed a finger back at Bucky and replied. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a jerk?”

And in typical eight year old fashion Bucky had grinned and said back,” I dunno, anybody ever tell you you’re a punk?”

Both boys were smiling at each other and then Bucky was shoving his hand into Steve’s, introducing himself. “My name’s James Buchanan Barnes but you can call me Bucky.” And that had been that.

They became inseparable and really, that probably was when it began. From the moment Steve had entered Bucky’s life it was like a pull, something drawing them together, something urging him to protect and care. Something that grew and grew into a strong and unbreakable bond that ran so deep between them that by the time Bucky noticed it, it had been too late. Because what he didn’t realize before was how warm his chest felt when he was near Steve; that the highlight of his day was trudging up the stairs after work and finding Steve looking up from his drawing to offer him a sympathetic smile and ask “what do you want to eat tonight Buck?” and letting their simple domesticity erase the days’ aches. That, the electricity he felt in his bones when he looked Steve in the eyes and admired how blue they were had meant more than a close friendship.

Now it was hard to pass off his feelings as friendly when he looked at Steve and saw the sharp points of a collarbone peeking out from too loose clothing. When he found himself looking at the curve of Steve’s lips and _wanted._ It was a visceral and heated feeling, snaking through his veins, making his pulse jump and his cock ache.

The bitch of it all was that if it had just been sexual, nothing but physical attraction, Bucky would have been able to deal with it. Might have been able to cause the attraction to fade by finding someone similar enough and fucking it out of his system. He certainly made the effort at least, going out and dancing with dames a few nights a week. Unfortunately his life was hardly ever that easy.

No, Bucky had to go and do the worst imaginable and fall in love. He didn’t want to fuck Steve he wanted to, god help him, make love to him. He wanted to memorize and map out instead of quick groping, wanted to go slow and explore instead of dirty and fast.

Hell, it was possible he had no clue what love was. It seemed to be an awful lot like this though, like he could take the whole damn world on if Steve looked at him the right way, like he had found his home and happiness, everything he could have ever wanted in the form a 95 pound, too stubborn and too brave for his own good man called Steve Rogers.

Sometimes it overwhelmed him how much he felt. There was no outlet for this; well there was no acceptable outlet. Sure, he could risk telling his closest friend that he had been wired wrong and somehow had ended up falling in love with him and could they still be friends even though he thought about getting on his knees for Steve at least twice a week? And then Steve being the pure hearted person that he was wouldn’t stop being his friend or move out or anything of the like. Bucky wasn't stupid and knew his feelings weren't normal. A man could get himself thrown in jail if he admitted to having thoughts like this. He also knew his friend, and knew Steve wasn't the kind of person to turn his back on him. Not for this anyway.

But he would start to look at Bucky with pity, act differently around him and he would still be there but be gone in all the ways that mattered until their friendship became too strained and then he really would leave. Rather than face that slow and painful demise of the best relationship he had, Bucky ignored his feelings; told himself to get a grip because this _thing_ with him was not worth losing his friend.

It wasn’t all too surprising when that didn’t work as well as he wanted it to. All of it would build up to a point where he either had to press Steve up against or leave. So he would still go out sometimes, get a drink and tell himself he was being ridiculous and dance with a beautiful girl or too. A couple times Bucky wondered if he should find a man to go home with, if that would help. He knew there were discreet, albeit illegal, places men could go to. However every time the thought crossed his head it was rejected. It wasn’t that he was disgusted by the idea, whatever two consenting adults got up to in their personal lives was none of his business, it felt wrong. In his head all he would be doing was comparing whoever it was with Steve and find all the ways they weren’t like him.

Bucky wasn’t close enough with anyone else to confide in them, didn’t trust anyone to keep this secret that was eating away at him. That was the reason why he found himself drinking alone that evening. He should probably start heading back home soon. Steve was most likely already asleep and he hoped he could slip in without waking him. Earlier it had sounded like he could be coming down with something again and the best thing Bucky knew to do was let Steve rest. Hopefully it would be enough prevent the next disease from sinking its hooks into him.

He stumbled only a little up the stairs and thankfully Steve remained asleep. Bucky passed by him on the way to his tiny room (it was an illegal subdivide that made summers feel like absolute hell).

The moon was full tonight and it shined through the one window they had. Bucky let his eyes drink in Steve’s prone figure. His face wasn’t relaxed, like even in his sleep he was getting into trouble, dreaming about picking fights for some noble reason or other. Bucky smiled at the thought. Since he still had alcohol making his thoughts come a bit lazily and unfiltered he reached out to brush away some strands of Steve’s hair. Not wanting to pull away he curled his fingers around the side of Steve’s face. In the unlikely event Steve woke up he could always say he was checking for fever. His thumb edged closer to the corner of Steve’s mouth and the simple act and its possibilities sent a thrill through him.

The feel of warm skin beneath his hand was enjoyable until he realized that didn’t really make sense. People usually felt someone’s forehead and not their cheek for a fever didn’t they? With a sigh Bucky pulled back and felt annoyed that he had to and then he felt even more annoyed for being annoyed about something so trivial in the first place.

He made it to his room without a backward glance and sat on the bed, restless. He was still feeling just…too much. He wanted and _wanted_ , couldn’t remember the last time he looked at Steve without thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Running a hand through his dark hair, he looked around the small space for distraction.

His gaze settled on an old sketchbook Steve had given him, back when they both had taken art classes together. That was before Bucky had realized Steve was the one who had actual talent and he could help them more by getting another job. It wasn’t an item he used very often; the occasional list or note was made from its pages and that was about it. The more he stared at it the more an idea formed in his head. Then he was grabbing the sketchbook and looking around for a pen.

This was probably a stupid idea that could only end with him feeling embarrassed, and yet at the same time it seemed like the best way to relieve the pressure in his chest. He ended up sitting with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up. The blank stretch of white paper spread in front of him, pen poised at the top of the page. Hesitation held him back for all of a minute and then it was like his hand had a mind of its own and all of his frustration was being poured out of him and scribbled onto the page.

 

 

 

It felt like a weight being lifted; to be able to express whatever this was, to put pen to paper and let the words that so desperately wanted to be said out somehow. Bucky turned to lie across the bed and shoved the notebook under his pillow, sleep coming easier from this little exercise and from the beer still lingering in his system.

**

It was possible he was being melodramatic when he woke up the next morning and felt ever so slightly horrified at what he had written. Re-reading over the words made him flush with embarrassment and feel pathetic. But.

But he couldn’t deny that no matter how ridiculous it seemed, it had actually helped. And well, who else had to know about it? He certainly wasn’t going to let anyone see these very personal, if a bit drunken, thoughts and if it made him feel less like he was going to explode then all the better for it. It wasn’t an ideal solution to his problem, a hell of a lot better than nothing at all though.

With that thought in mind, Bucky went to the far left corner of his room and crouched over the old floorboards. Carefully he pried one of the looser boards up, and placed the notebook under a couple of dirty mags and half empty carton of cigarettes. With any luck, if Steve ever stumbled over his hiding place he would be so scandalized by the salacious pictures he wouldn’t look and find what was now underneath.

**

The next time would not have happened at all if it hadn’t been so damn windy out.

An unfortunate incident at work had left Bucky covered in the grease they used for rigging down at the docks and there hadn’t been much he could do to get the stubborn stuff off. It made his clothes cling to him in the most uncomfortable way.

The other guys on duty that afternoon had taken great amusement out of his oil-slicked state. There had been far too many innuendos that all went along the line of ‘just because he ran out of lube at home didn’t mean he could try stealing some’ and ‘stop tryin to get his rocks off when he’s supposed to be working’. Bucky had promptly flipped the group of laughing men off and stalked away to make an attempt at cleaning himself up. The rest of his shift had been a real delight to finish.

Then on the trek back home the wind had started to pick up causing the grease to dry on his skin. His hair kept getting blown into his eyes no matter how many times he pushed it back. Flashes of lightening could be seen in the far distance; the skies were graying and everyone else on the streets was hurrying to get inside before the storm began. Bucky just hoped it wouldn’t rain yet.

Luck was on his side because as he started to climb up the stairs he heard a crack of thunder and the rain followed soon after. Gotta appreciate the small victories and all that. When he opened the door he looked forward to taking a hot shower (well as hot as he could manage to get it, the plumbing in this place was faulty at best).

Steve was reading when he came in and set his book down to greet him. He looked up and stared wide-eyed for all of a few seconds and then a giant grin spread across his face. Bucky did not blush, he didn’t, and was about to ask why he was smiling like an idiot when Steve’s laugh filled the space, loud and bright.

“Seriously Buck, what happened to you?”

Then Bucky paused and considered what he must look like, windblown, clothes dirty and greased stained.

“And oh God, your _hair_.” Steve laughed even harder. He didn’t acknowledge the way it made his stomach flutter.

“What about it?” Bucky reached up to feel it and without even looking in a mirror he could tell it was a crazy, tangled mess. “Yeah you go ahead and laugh, bet you I’m still the best looking guy on this side of Brooklyn.” He pulled the cockiest smirk he could.

“Only in your dreams pal”, was Steve’s breathy response.

Bucky tried to smooth the wild locks down though apparently wasn’t doing a good enough job of it. Steve chuckled lightly and walked right into his space.

“Here let me, you’re only making it worse.” Then his hands were in Bucky’s hair, any protests stopped. He stood stock still as dainty fingers worked through the knots and looked anywhere but down at Steve. The room felt too warm.

“Not sure you’re helpin’ much either.” Bucky joked; it sounded uneasy to his own ears. It was important that he get out of there and soon. There was no doubt Bucky would do something embarrassing like moan or get hard right then and there. Without thinking he grabbed Steve’s wrist to stop him and a bolt of arousal shot straight to his dick. All he had to do was pin those wrists to the wall and it would so easy to lean down and…

He let go like he’d been burned and stepped back. Steve had his hands still out in front of him and Bucky could see the questions forming on his lips. So he started talking fast; making his escape to the bathroom.

“I think I’m just gonna shower, it’s been a long day and I probably look like hell.”

Steve had an expression on his face that Bucky couldn’t name. He didn’t think about it as he got into the bathroom and turned the spray on, concentrating on getting as clean as possible. The shower proved to be colder than he would have liked. That didn’t stop him from dragging it out and hoping that if he took long enough Steve would be sleeping by the time he got out.

No such luck.

Steve was back to reading when Bucky stepped out. He was going to mumble a quick goodnight and get to his room when Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey I didn’t mean anything earlier, about when you came in I mean. You just looked a little…” And then it was Bucky’s turn to laugh, cutting off the rest of the sentence because here was Steve trying to apologize over nothing.

“Don’t worry; I’m not some delicate dame that gets sensitive over my looks.”

Steve smiled and teased back,” I dunno, I always thought you spent too much time getting ready in the morning.”

“You’re a real punk sometimes you know?”

“Takes one to know one.”  After hesitating for a moment Steve asked, “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Bucky sighed, made sure to keep the good-natured smile on his face; it was only a little forced. “Yeah… like I said long day at work is all. Just need to get a good night’s sleep. So I think I’ll turn in now, night Steve.” He pulled away from where Steve had absently been touching him.

Steve looked like he wanted to say more but he let him go. “Night’ Bucky.”

Safely back in his room, Bucky pulled the sketchbook out. There was one thing that had been pressing into his thoughts since Steve had been so thoroughly humored by his initial appearance.

 

 

**

“Come on it’ll be fun I promise.”

“The answer is still no.”

“But why not? She’s bringing her friend with so it’ll be like a double date.” Bucky had been trying to convince Steve to come out with him for the last ten minutes and he wasn’t having much success.

“No, I keep her friend or cousin or whoever company while you two have a date. There’s a difference.” Steve sighed and gave Bucky a look like he was explaining this to a child. “These things hardly ever work out so I’m gonna save myself the trouble and sit this one out.”

Normally Bucky might have let it go but the both of them had been cooped up in the apartment for too long, only ever leaving for work (in Steve’s case class) and it had left Bucky restless. This was the first night in a long while that he didn’t have to stay late at the pier and he intended to make the best of it, that included having Steve with him.

Even more important was Bucky was afraid Steve was starting to figure him out. At the very least he knew something was off, Bucky had been staying in more often than not when he would usually be out in the city somewhere with a drink in his hand and a girl on his arm. He knew Steve was keeping a closer eye on him, trying to work out on his own what was wrong. If Bucky wasn’t careful, he knew Steve would get it eventually; there was no way he wouldn’t, they knew each other too well.

So he needed to act more like he usually did and that meant leaving the apartment. It didn’t mean he had to leave Steve home too.

“What kind of friend would I be if I left you here when you could be dancing with a nice looking dame instead?” He asked, choosing to ignore Steve’s excuses because they weren’t entirely untrue.

“Well that settles it then doesn’t it? If there’s dancing involved then you can really count me out.” Steve sat at their flimsy excuse for a table and flipped open his sketchbook as if the conversation was done. Bucky rubbed his temple and knew he needed to approach this from a different angle. Trying to get Steve to dance was like pulling teeth.

“What if we practiced first? I could show you a couple of easy steps and even then you still don’t gotta ask her if you don’t want to. ” If he was suggesting this for an excuse to hold Steve close, nobody else had to know. Steve looked up from his picture, pencil held tightly in his hand and asked in a quiet voice, “Really?” Bucky smiled.

“Yeah I don’t mind, so” he walked up to Steve, offering his hand and most charming smile, “can I have this dance?”

Steve shook his head and muttered “Ridiculous” under his breath. He still stood and put his hand in Bucky’s. Bucky pulled him closer and Steve placed his other hand up on his shoulder. Standing this close, it was easy to see all the ways they were different. Steve was small and at least a head shorter than him, seemingly fragile where Bucky was defined with some muscle and broader shoulders.

For a second they just stood there; Steve waiting for Bucky to make some kind of move while Bucky memorized exactly what it was like to hold Steve this was. He covered up the slight pause by launching right into the impromptu lesson.

“Alright, first thing’s first you gotta remember to relax, that’s the most important thing.”

He led Steve around the tiny space trying to show him the simplest steps he knew. Whatever Steve was thinking, it clearly wasn’t relaxing him. He felt too tense where he was holding onto Bucky. He kept stumbling over his own feet and stepping on Bucky’s, his gaze was trained on the ground like he thought if he glared hard enough he would stop tripping over the floor. The longer it went on the redder his cheeks became. Bucky refused to think it was endearing.

“You know when you dance with a real girl you can’t keep starin' at your feet.” Bucky teased. Maybe if he could get Steve to laugh it would loosen him up.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Steve said between gritted teeth.

“Which part? You dancing with a girl? Or that you won’t stop looking at the floor like it’s gonna bite you if you take your eyes off it?” Bucky turned them in another circle and fought a wince when Steve stepped on his left foot for the fifth time.

“Both.” Steve sighed again and started to step away. Bucky stopped their movements and tightened his grip so Steve couldn’t leave.

“Here, look up, look at me.” Steve raised his head to meet Bucky’s steady gaze. His bottom lip looked abused, he must been chewing on it while he had been concentrating. Bucky then realized he needed to not be caught looking at his friend’s mouth.

“You’re thinking too much, 'course you’re gonna mess up if you keep expecting yourself to. And don’t be an idiot, you’re gonna find a dame to dance with and when you do she’s gonna want you to look at her.”

Steve looked like he didn’t believe him but was still prepared to indulge him. “Fine I’ll keep trying. Remember you could have spared your toes the pain.” Steve put his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

Bucky laughed.“I’m willing to risk it.”

They began their slow dance again. Steve wouldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes and a blush was still staining his cheeks. He continued tensing up when he would misstep and for the life of him Bucky couldn’t figure out why Steve was so worked up. Perhaps they should try something else, it wasn’t that Steve was hopeless at dancing, it was just that he was well, pretty damn hopeless at dancing. After Steve muttered ‘sorry’ for tripping into him for what felt to be the hundredth time, Bucky stopped them again.

“I wanna try somethin' else because I’m sorry buddy but there’s no way any girl should be dancing with you tonight.”

“Well you shoulda known that already.” Steve shot back. Bucky smiled again.

“Maybe.” He said. “Look this is the best advice I can give you. Wait for a slow song to start to ask her dance and then you can get away with doing this.” He pulled Steve up against his chest and rested the hand that wasn’t still wrapped around Steve’s at the small of his back. Steve let out an undignified squeak, his face smushed into Bucky’s shoulder so his voice came out muffled.

“What are you doing Bucky?”

Bucky rolled his eyes even though Steve couldn’t see it. “Trust me alright; put your other arm around me.” Steve hesitated and then complied, sliding his arm completely around Bucky so his hand lay on his back. He didn’t lift his head like Bucky thought he would, just turned it so Bucky could feel him breathing against his neck.

Bucky was glad Steve couldn’t see his face because without a doubt he would know about Bucky’s _thing_. Having Steve against him made his head feel too light for a moment and he could swear his skin was tingling where it was pressed into Steve’s. That wasn’t normal was it?

Bucky pushed it all out of his head and focused on the task at hand. He cleared his throat before he spoke to make sure it wouldn’t come out strained.

“Yeah now all you gotta do is move in a kind of circle right? But slower you know?”

“Isn’t that what we were doing?” Steve grumbled.

“No it’s more like…” Bucky couldn’t think of a way to describe it. “Just pay attention to how we move.”

“I still don’t think this is going to work.” Steve said and Bucky shushed him.

“This is as easy as it gets so if it doesn’t work then you can’t be helped.”

Steve laughed at that. His breath felt hot where it brushed over his skin.

Bucky swayed them gently in half circles, each movement smooth and languid. Steve was warm and solid where he touched Bucky. It felt intimate to be doing this. They were only dancing but it felt like more. Bucky closed his eyes and wondered what Steve was thinking. If he could feel how comfortably they fit together. It was relaxing in a way Bucky didn’t think it would be. Lazy affection swelled in his chest at how nice it felt to have Steve like this.

Which is why it was all he could think about when they did leave, and Bucky ended up dancing with his date while Steve sat at the table. Bucky walked up to him afterwards, “What, that dance lesson was for nothing then?”

Steve had given him a small smile, “No it’s…I guess I’m just waiting for the right partner is all.”

That struck a chord with Bucky and he didn’t know what to say back. He clapped Steve on the back and told him, “Maybe next time huh?”

“Yeah maybe.” He didn’t sound all that convinced.

Later when they were home again Bucky pulled the sketchbook out.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**

 

Bucky was dreaming. He knew this to be the case for several reasons.

One, there was the sense that this was a dream. A sort of vague not quite awareness coupled with the feeling of not being in control of anything that happened. He was just there experiencing whatever his mind decided to throw at him.

Second, the light in his room was not as dulled as this dream one was. And his bed wasn’t this big either.

Third, this seemed to be an impossible situation. Sometimes it’s hard to tell because dream logic kicks in and when something extremely unlikely occurs like your toast starts talking to you; it seems perfectly natural to talk back. The point is anything could seem normal. But the way Steve was tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair and trying to taste every corner of his mouth was anything other than normal.

So Bucky knows he’s dreaming. That doesn’t mean he has to care it’s not real.

He continued not caring as he kissed back with enthusiasm. Steve was below him, short enough that Bucky nearly covered all of him. Neither of them wore clothes and Bucky was grateful about the conveniences of dream sex. Nothing was awkward or unsure and instead everything was feeling pretty fucking amazing.

Bucky was so hard it was almost painful. He was thrusting down against Steve as Steve pushed his hips up to meet him in a messy rhythm. The slide of skin was too good to be real, every time his cock would brush up against Steve’s made Bucky moan. He increased the pressure, wanted feverishly to have Steve as breathless as he made Bucky feel all the time. Steve moaned and pressed closer in response.

Bucky’s lips trailed from Steve’s, across his jaw and onto his neck, he could spend hours kissing patterns into that neck. He introduced his teeth and Steve made a sound that could be described as a whine, and clutched at Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky smiled and moved a hand down between them. His hand trailed purposefully down Steve’s skinny chest, across his stomach, intention clear. Steve stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“W-wait, if you touch me now I’ll come.” He sounded breathless.

“Well yeah ain't that the point?” Bucky started to move his hand again. Steve tightened his grip and blushed.

“Yeah but I…I wanted to come with you inside me.” He turned his head into the pillow and Bucky swore. The air around them turned even more heated. Anticipation jolted through Bucky like electricity; the mere idea of being joined like that, to give Steve that pleasure was maddening.

He found Steve’s lips again and ravaged his mouth so there would be no mistaking how completely okay Bucky was with the idea. When he needed to breathe he drew back and Steve was panting below him.

His blonde hair was sticking to his forehead and Bucky smoothed it back, letting the movement turn into a caress. He left his hand to frame Steve’s face and Steve turned his head and gave a gentle kiss to the palm. Bucky noticed how red and kiss swollen his mouth looked. His blue eyes met Bucky’s and he smiled, small and genuine and just for Bucky.

Steve looked debauched and the same time so full of affection that the sight made Bucky ache. He closed his eyes and leaned down so his forehead was pressed against Steve’s temple. Hopefully his voice wasn’t shaky when he spoke.

“You don’t know what you do to me.”

Bucky allowed himself one more quick press of lips and then he was sitting up. With slow intent he started to push Steve's thighs apart.

Then Bucky was brought suddenly back into reality. He felt disorientated as he worked out that he was alone in his bed. In that moment between wakefulness and sleep where nothing was making sense and overwhelming desire was still running rampant through him, Bucky wanted impossible things. Things like holding hands for the hell of it, like hearing what Steve's desperate moans sounded like for real, or waking up together to mornings beginning with lazy kisses. Above all else Bucky wanted nothing more than to be as close as possible to Steve, and then get even closer than that. To search and find his soul, his mind, his heart, whatever it was that made Steve, Steve and then bury himself in that place and never leave. Maybe there he would find the reason why he was so frustratingly in love with best friend.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got a hold of himself; there was no point in thinking that way. The sun was creeping up into the sky, bringing the world out of the black of night and into the grey of dawn. His sheets were a sticky mess. Lovely. That hadn’t happened since he was a teenager who was learning what it meant to have dick. Bucky got out of bed and stretched. No use trying to go back to sleep now when all he would be able to think about was that dream.

Instead he went over to corner of his room to pry the floorboard up. He had been coming here more often and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. After bringing out the sketchbook he didn’t bother to turn the light on.

 

 

**

 

Bucky heard Steve before he saw him.

It was one of those rare days when Bucky was home first. The place seemed drabber than it normally did when Steve wasn’t there; emptier somehow without Steve there to brighten it up. He was expecting Steve to be back any minute, assumed some minor incident must have held him up at the newsstand (Bucky thought they lucked out finding that for Steve because it wasn’t as physically demanding as factory work and the pay was enough to help them get by.)

When the time went by and Steve still hadn’t shown up Bucky started to feel a little concerned. Without meaning to he began to pace around the room. It was possible it was more than a little. He was about to pull his boots back on search when he heard wheezing breaths coming from outside the door. It was followed by raspy coughing and Bucky’s concern was heightened.

He hurried over to the door as Steve opened it and walked in. Well, he didn’t so much walk in as collapse into Bucky. Bucky cursed and steadied him in his arms.

“What the hell Steve?” He kicked the door shut and started walking Steve over to his room because it was the closest. Steve’s only response was to gasp against his chest. After stumbling a few times they made it to the room and Bucky placed Steve on his bed. It would have been a welcome sight in any other circumstances. Right now Steve looked far too weak and pale; narrow chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to catch his breath.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong.” He had to know what they were dealing with. It never failed to scare Bucky when Steve could be getting sick again, they never knew if this time was going to be it. That the latest flu would be too much and Steve wouldn’t be strong enough to fight it. Bucky began dreading the colder season because he didn’t know if this winter was going to be the one Steve couldn’t pull through.

“Asthma attack.” Steve got out between wheezes. “Was colder than I thought it was gonna be today.”

Bucky climbed onto the bed beside Steve, they already had a way for dealing with these. He sat with his back to the wall and Steve moved so he was leaning into Bucky again. His head rested on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky pulled an arm around him. To help Steve relax more he ran his hand up and down the length of Steve’s back in gentle strokes.

“Try to match my breathing remember?” Steve nodded as another cough shook him. Bucky held Steve closer and tried to help him regulate his breaths so the coughing wouldn’t get worse. Every shudder that made Steve twist against his side was a new surge of anxiety for Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long they lay together like that. Sometime during the night Steve wasn’t exhaling so shallowly anymore and was able to breathe deeper. As the night had worn on Bucky had settled his head on top of Steve's; it was much more comfortable then the wall behind him. Steve had his eyes closed and Bucky couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not. Eventually he had stopped rubbing circles into Steve’s back and had settled for holding him.

“Thank you.” Steve whispered into his shoulder. He moved only to rest more comfortably on Bucky, slinging his arm across Bucky’s chest and nestling closer. So that answered that question.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Bucky muttered back.

“Still, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah well you can show it by takin' care of yourself.” Bucky thumped his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “I just get worried about you.” He said quietly.

Steve didn’t say anything else for a while and then, “I know.” Neither of them spoke after that.

Steve must have drifted off sometime during the early hours. Bucky found no such peace. Work was going to be a bitch and half if he didn’t get any rest. Even knowing that he still couldn’t fall asleep.

As far as asthma attacks went this hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. Nevertheless Bucky wasn’t able to shake the fear that settled in his bones. It wouldn’t really leave until Steve was well enough that he was inhaling without the rattle of a cough and even then Bucky would still be tense and watch over Steve for days after; vigilant for any signs of distress.

When he did have to get up to leave for work he did so with a great deal of reluctance. As quietly and softly as he could he maneuvered out of Steve’s tight grasp so as not to wake him. It was a matter of minutes until he was dressed and ready to leave. He paused one last time to observe Steve and hope he would still be okay by the time he got back home.

Though he probably shouldn’t have with Steve right there, Bucky got out the sketchbook to write.

 

 

**

 

This was a familiar scene they found themselves in; one that had played out since they were children. To be honest it was an occurrence that Bucky wished would stop happening. Steve, however, was too headstrong for that to be true.

Some guy who was, of course, bigger than Steve was standing over him and getting ready to throw what Bucky assumed was yet another punch. Steve was barely standing on his feet. It was obvious to Bucky that he had taken a couple of decent hits, had possibly fallen to the ground a couple times too. But he still kept his hands up as if he could defend himself. Like always he would refuse to back down and say things like, “I could do this all day”, and would do it too.

Because Steve was one of those rare, unbelievably genuine individuals who couldn’t simply have just a moral code. Steve was someone who believed so fiercely in what he thought was right; he was someone who, no matter what, would take action for his principles. Even if that meant getting his ass kicked for the tenth time that week.

The rest of the world didn’t see that. All everyone else saw was a scrawny kid from Brooklyn where Bucky saw greatness and strength that came from an incredible heart. How could he not fall in love with that?

Bucky heard some shoving and a noise from Steve. A sharp exhale to bite back any pained groans that might escape; because Steve was stupidly brave and wouldn’t give the guy the satisfaction of hearing his pain. He was sure Steve was about to say something else that’d provoke the guy so he acted fast.

He yanked the man away from Steve and went to stand in front of his friend, positioning himself between Steve and the now more annoyed man.

“Why don’t you back off and leave him alone.” Bucky made it a clear command and not a question. The guy didn’t look very pleased.

“Get outta my way your friend here needs to learn to keep his damn mouth shut.” He advanced forward like he was trying to be intimidating. Bucky wasn’t impressed.

“I already told you to go once.” The guy didn’t have anything to say to that and moved to punch him. Bucky was quicker and socked him right in the jaw. There was a satisfying smack that sounded as the blow landed, followed up by the man’s surprised cry of pain as he stumbled backwards holding his face. Bucky raised his arms to keep going when he felt Steve touch his shoulder.

“He’s not worth it Buck.” Blood was spilling out Steve’s split lip and that was all Bucky could focus on. He wanted to turn back around and really beat the hell out of the guy. When he did turn to do just that, he had already run off and Steve was breathing a little funny and that was mattered. “How bad is it?”

“S’not that bad.” He winced as he started walking past Bucky. “Some hard shoves and a couple of lucky hits.”

“Oh is that all?” The sarcasm was obvious in his tone. He caught up to Steve and put an arm around him to help him walk. Steve glared but didn’t shove him away.

“Shut up I had him on the ropes.”

“You’re an idiot.” He said it fondly and Steve rolled his eyes.

They made it home without further incident. Over Steve’s objections Bucky herded him into the bathroom and had Steve sit on the toilet lid.

“Alright take it off, lemme see the worst of it.”

“I don’t think this is necessary.” Steve griped, though did as Bucky asked.

“Well I do.” Bucky ran a towel under hot water and took out some bandages. When he turned back Steve he made an honest attempt not to let his gaze linger inappropriately over his friend’s exposed torso. He wasn’t sure how successful he was. Clearing his throat he focused and properly inspected the damage done.

He wasn't injured too badly this time and for that Bucky was grateful. Although each scrape and scratch bothered him. No one should be laying a hand on Steve.

Steve shuddered when Bucky ventured closer to his stomach. “Tickles” is all he offered in explanation. Bucky wanted to know what else would make Steve shudder. Thought about kissing every wound he came across and driving Steve to the edge just with his mouth. How he would tease and taste as much as he could and only when Steve was begging for it would he bring him to pleasure.

It was possible he may have cut the next bandage more forcefully than he needed to.

Steve's face hadn't been too bloodied up. Just the split lip, a bruise coloring his cheek and a scrape near his temple. In all likelihood it wasn't necessary for him to give any attention to the minor injuries there. This fact didn't stop him from taking a wet corner of the towel and, with care, cleaning up the smaller scrape. Steve's eyes were fixed on him and it made it harder to focus. He swallowed and he swore he could feel Steve's gaze tracking the movement.

They were in eachother's space, nearly breathing the same air. Bucky moved back when he realized it was because he kept leaning closer than he needed to be. It was a good thing Steve didn't seem to notice, was as distracted as Bucky had been. Bucky wasn't sure how to explain the gravitational pull that made it so easy for him to invade Steve's space. 

He finished bandaging Steve up in silence. There was a strange tension between them and the quiet seemed to amplify it. Bucky had no idea what it meant or what to say to break it. When he was done Steve was quick to put his shirt back and mutter “Thanks.” Then he was out of the room and Bucky blinked after him.

“I don’t mind.” He said to the empty bathroom.

Once he was back in his room he already knew what he would be writing.

 

 

Bucky had never given much thought for the future. He lived day to day and never had the energy to spare to plan for what his life might be like in five years. As long as Steve was there with him and they had a roof over their heads he would be satisfied.

The war was the last thing he expected would claim his upcoming days.

Of course he knew it was going on in the rest of the world, he also knew the U.S. was keeping out of it. There was one thing that would drag it in and that took the form of an attack on December 7th.

The second the news reached them Steve had turned to Bucky, the very picture of determination and said, “I’m joining up.” He pictured Steve, small and sickly, in the middle of a war zone. His heart stuttered.

“What? Steve, there is no way-”

“They’ve got to be stopped, and I’ve got to do my part.”

“And you think you can take Hitler down all on your own?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I have to do this, I’m not just going to sit here when there people, good people, dying.”

Bucky sighed. “You join the army and you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Like I said innocent people are already dying, and I can do something about it.” Steve looked at him like he was daring him to keep arguing with him. Bucky could already see that was pointless.

“You know I’m joining up too.”

Steve’s expression softened. “You don’t gotta follow me into this. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah I’m sure you can but that’s not why. I can do my part too and besides I hate bullies just about as much as you do. So I’m in this with you pal, til the end of the line remember?”

A hint of smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s lips. “Til the end of the line.”

*

That was how they found themselves training for the recruitment offices. They ran laps, did pushups, sit-ups, the whole nine yards. All the while Bucky was watching Steve, checking for signs he was pushing himself too hard. Because in reality, there was a chance just training would put Steve out of commission. That was how Bucky knew there was no way in hell any recruiter would accept Steve. It put his mind at ease, sure in the fact that Steve wouldn’t face the harsh living and bitter fighting.

A part of him worried about facing these things on his own. It was a part that he did a pretty decent job of ignoring; especially when most of his thoughts were dominated by worry for Steve. Without Bucky around who was going keep him from getting into trouble, make sure he didn’t forget his scarf when it got cold out, help him breathe through coughing fits, or make sure he didn’t spend all damn day getting lost in his drawings and forgot to eat anything as a result?

Who was going to look out for him?

These questions kept whirling around in his head, refusing to be pinned down and give him rest; as if they feared to be answered. Probably because the only honest answer was that there was no one. They were both orphans and the closest friend either of them had was each other. It wasn’t much but it had been more than enough for them throughout the years.

Or maybe Steve would find himself a nice girl and settle down, that right partner he was always talking about. He could finish up his classes, start selling his pictures and making some real money so he wouldn’t have to scrimp and save like they had to. Bucky knew he was talented enough to do it. Tendrils of jealousy at this fictional scenario crept into him and tainted his thoughts. Which was frankly ridiculous because even if there wasn’t a war going on it’s not like Bucky would get to have that anyway.

He decided to set those kind of feelings into the same mental box where he placed the other stuff he was ignoring.

The days passed and they eventually paid a visit to the recruiting offices. The receptionist had given Steve an incredulous look when he made it clear that ‘yes ma’am he was trying to sign up too.’ After going through all their tests the results they received weren’t surprising.

Bucky was accepted, had passed with flying colors. Steve was staring down at the bold stamped **4F** on his papers. He both hated and loved how Steve, stubborn as ever, said. “I’m trying again.”

“I know you are.” He could see the resolve in every inch of his friend, from the set of his jaw to his hands still clenched around the results. The best he could do was offer his support, try and cheer him up. “Who knows maybe you’ll get em’ next time, now I think we both deserve a drink. I’m gonna have to ship off to basic training soon enough.”

*

True to his word Bucky was gone and off to training within the following couple of weeks. Going into it Bucky had thought he was a good enough fighter, he knew he could hold his own. It was a wrong assumption to make as the instructors pushed him harder than he thought possible and built up his strength. Compared to the other guys he was excelling and as the training got more strenuous his superiors noticed.

They put him up to be a non-commissioned officer. He was given some extra training; seemed he was shaping up to be one hell of shot and on his way to becoming one of their top snipers. Bucky wondered what Steve would think about that, who knew he would be good at war.

When it was finally over and he made it back to New York, the uniform all stiff lines and army stripes fresh on his arm, all he could think about was seeing Steve again before he was shipped off to Italy or France for who knew how long. Climbing up the familiar steps made the anticipation build until he opened the door.

Steve looked up from a drawing and gave Bucky a giant grin. Fuck, he had missed seeing him. It was like an ache in his chest as he took in the familiarity of Steve; of the sense of home he gave Bucky.

He grinned back and dropped his back to floor, walking over to where Steve was getting up from his seat. They didn’t need words as they embraced, the unspoken _I missed you_ present in the strength of their hug.

When they pulled away Steve asked about basic and Bucky gave him all the dirty details. Described how exhausted he would go to bed every night and how most of his leftover energy went to caring about a good enough meal and warm shower; even got him to laugh a couple times with stories about some of the other guys there.

He found out Steve was still trying to get in, he shouldn’t have been surprised. There was probably nothing that would make him give up. Rather than start any arguments he let it go. In a few days he would be leaving and he didn’t want to waste any of the time he had left. He just wanted to remember this, what it was like being Bucky and Steve, two simple kids from Brooklyn.

If Steve was surprised he didn’t spend his last nights as a free man out with some dames he didn’t show it.

The time passed too fast for Bucky. He hadn’t finished committing it all to memory, Steve’s smile, his laugh, and the exact shade of blue his eyes were, the simple life they had shared behind these shabby four walls. Briefly he had considered telling Steve about his _thing_. It was tempting; he would be lying if he said it wasn’t. The idea that Steve would know, that it wouldn’t have to be a secret that died with him.

When he thought about it though, it was unfair and cowardly. No matter what Steve’s reaction would be, no matter how you spun it he would be declaring his feelings only to turn around and run off to war. And how would that conversation even go, as he’s leaving he says, “Bye Stevie, oh and by the way I’ve been in love with you.” No thanks. In reality the last conversation he had with Steve (the last one for a long time anyways) went more like,

“Stay outta trouble; don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“I’m not makin' any promises.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

They had both laughed (it was only a little strained) and hugged one last time.

“Stay safe.” Steve murmured in his ear. “And try not to get all the bad guys until I get there.”

Bucky had his eyes closed, it was a struggle not to keep Steve wrapped up in his arms. “M’ not makin' any promises.”

Steve huffed out another breath of laughter, then squeezed Bucky once more and let go.

“Bye Buck, remember what I said.”

“I will.” And then he had to go.

Besides, it really was fine with him in the end. All he cared about was that Steve was happy, that he did something worthwhile and made it out of their crappy apartment.

The last night he spent in his room he stopped before getting into bed. There was only the slightest pause and then he was prying up that loose floorboard and retrieving the sketchbook. One last time, he told himself, he just had to give voice to this thing that wasn’t meant to be one last time and then he could bury his feelings in the fighting.

He would focus on the army. He was going to be a soldier, a sniper, and a damn good one at that.

 

**

 

Being at war was dirty. It was bloody and muddy and tiring with the weight of fear bearing down on everyone. It was sleeping on the cold ground and trying to fall asleep despite the paranoia that at any moment the enemy could attack. Paranoia that wasn’t unwarranted the day it all became far too real and they were outnumbered and fell to a group of German soldiers.

They got shoved into cramped holding cells and put to work. It was that or a bullet through the head; a lesson learned the first days of their imprisonment. Every few days one of the Germans would come down and pick one of them to lead away. Whoever it was never came back. It was all too easy to imagine what had happened to them.

*

The day came when it was Bucky’s turn and the fear became heavier. He prayed it would be over quickly; a prayer that he knew went answered as soon the medical table came into view. Restraints dangled ominously from its sides and the smell of chemicals was overwhelming. Several guards forced him onto the table; he struggled and fought, making it as difficult as he could because no way in in hell was he going to make it easy for them to carry out whatever torture they had planned.

Panic really kicked when they had him secured in the restraints. Oh God what were they going to do to him? Sweat made his palms clammy and slide against the table where he kept struggling, his heart was wildly pounding. His eyes kept scanning the room, trying to find a way to escape.

There was no way out.

 

**

 

 _JamesBuchananBarnes325575._ He was pretty sure that was who he was.

He was delirious. There was pain, unbelievable pain followed by cold and then nothing; then heat, burning and never ending agony.

_JamesBuchananBarnes325575._

Bucky repeated it over and over; his anchor to reality.

_JamesBuchananBarnes325575._

More pain.

Was he going to die here? Was he even still alive?

“Bucky?”

“Steve?” His voice sounded hoarse.

There was no way he wasn’t hallucinating. The last time he had seen Steve he was barely a hundred pounds. And now. Well, now he was some walking wet dream that Bucky couldn’t believe was real. Especially when he jumped over the whole damn length of a fiery, collapsed bridge like it was no big deal. Like it was a simple puddle of rainwater that he wanted to avoid stepping in.

On the march back to camp he began to believe he wasn’t dreaming. To say he was sore and tired would be an understatement and he relied on Steve for a good part of the journey to keep him on his feet. Once they reached camp it was all a flurry of activity and debriefings, of medical tents and explanations. Bucky came to know several things.

One: The world finally realized what Bucky knew all along, that Steve was meant for great things (even though it took some super soldier serum for them to see it). A selfish part of him resented that Steve was no longer just his to admire and cherish.

Two: Peggy Carter was one hell of a dame. Turned out Steve didn’t need to be back home in Brooklyn to find the girl that was right for him.

Three: There was no way in hell he wasn’t heading back into the battle and facing the fight with Steve. Even if he was some super soldier now. Bucky would never stop being incredibly protective of Steve, it had been a part of who he was the entire time growing up. That didn’t change because Steve was now able to finish the fights he started. So, he was going to follow that once scrawny kid back into the fire; he always would.

Four: Being around Steve still made him feel whole. Sure he had changed, pretty drastically at that. But he was still Steve and he was Bucky's world. Fighting in the war hadn’t changed that.

 

**

 

They were on a train.

It was these last moments here; in this place, that later haunt Bucky’s dreams. It will come to him in bits and pieces, never one linear memory, there were gaps.

He remembered they were fighting and it looked like they were outmatched, even with Steve’s shield. Picking up that same shield because he needed to protect his friend. Another blast and he was thrown outside the train. Steve was desperate reaching for him; he was reaching back.

He remembered the whistling of icy air past him as he fell.

 


	3. Knowing the Difference Between Loving and Being in Love

The thing is Steve knew when it first began.

All he had ever known was Bucky, he had been the constant in Steve’s life. Always there, always had his back. When he had nothing, he still had Bucky and besides, Bucky was everything anyways.

Growing up Steve never thought what he felt for Bucky was wrong, never suspected it could be something people would consider perverse. It wasn’t even something he thought about, it wasn’t something he had to define. It just…was. Bucky was his best friend, his ally and confidant. Steve had known love could be felt in different shades and before he knew better he had thought the shade that colored his relationship with Bucky was friendship.

The tightness in his chest when he saw Bucky kissing a dame was easily explained by the cold weather; and his heart arrhythmia was what made his heart beat funny when Bucky cleaned him up when he managed to get himself into another scrap. That was what he told himself at least.

The shade of their relationship had changed when they moved in together.

At first Steve had been averse to the idea when Bucky had suggested it. He had no misgivings about his physical condition and had been doubtful he would be able to equally support an apartment. There was no way he was going to allow Bucky to work more, to do more than his fair share just because Steve wasn’t able to. It wouldn’t be right and Steve had silently refused to be a burden.

But once they had turned 18 and had to leave the overcrowded orphanage, they hadn’t had much of a choice. That was how they found themselves sharing a tiny Brooklyn apartment, and that was when it really began. The change happened in steps, friendship melding into romance.

It happened in the way Bucky made sure Steve always had enough to eat; in the way he managed to get Steve medicine when the winters were too harsh even though they couldn’t afford it, how he backed Steve up in his fights no matter what and would patch him up afterwards, how he seemed to take care of Steve in all the ways that mattered.

He had figured it out on his birthday.

Of course Bucky had taken him out. Alcohol was involved; Steve remembered his body feeling pleasantly loose and his head a little fuzzy. It hadn’t been hard for Bucky find a couple of dames and charm them into spending the evening with them. Steve couldn’t recall either of their names; he could remember the girl he had been sitting with was a brunette. Her hair had reminded him of Bucky’s, it looked black when you saw him from far away then when you got close enough it was rich brown with hints of auburn.

Steve had been level headed enough to avoid dancing and was content to watch Bucky step around the dance floor with his girl. Once, Bucky had looked up to catch him staring and Steve prayed the lights were dim enough to hide his blush. Bucky had just smiled at him. He felt too warm and had to look away. It had to be liquor that was making him feel strange.

He had tried making conversation with the dame he was with but he felt too distracted for it to lead anywhere. Not that she was very interested in him like that anyway. Deciding to cut the evening short he had politely excused himself and went to go find Bucky. A quick glance around had shown Bucky to be nowhere inside. After fumbling with the buttons on his jacket he ventured outside to continue his search, he was pretty sure Bucky wouldn’t abandon him here on his birthday. The night was fairly quiet and Steve liked it, it made it easier to clear his head

For a moment he stood outside the door and wondered where he should even begin to look. With a sigh he looked upwards at the sky. The stars seemed to be particularly bright that night. He absently had wished for a pencil and some paper. Then he heard some shuffling and what could have been a groan come from the small alley a little ways away from where he was standing.

Steve automatically assumed the worst, that it was some poor guy getting mugged or something. In quiet and swift movements he reached the alley and planned to sneak up on the attacker. The element of surprise was the only thing he really had going for him. However as soon as he had clear line of sight of what was going on he immediately stopped.

Bucky was there, his back against the alleyway wall, eyes closed and mouth open with pleasure. The dame he had been with was at his neck, probably sucking kisses into it Steve had assumed. Bucky was groaning low and deep, his hands running all over the girl’s body and pressing them close.

Steve couldn’t move. A distant part of him knew he should have made his presence known somehow, that Bucky or his date would notice him and get pissed off. All he could do was think about how beautiful Bucky looked like this.

What would it be like to kiss Bucky like that?

And with that single thought, the world shifted to account for the new shade of love Steve realized he had been feeling.

His mouth felt dry and his hands were shaking. It felt like he was going to have an asthma attack and _God_ how he wanted to have his hands on Bucky. He needed to know what Bucky’s skin tasted like, what it would feel like to have Bucky pinning him against an alley wall would be like.

The sudden bang of the door opening from down the street and a drunken group laughing as they left slammed Steve back into reality. He all but ran from the alley and back to where he had been; with any luck Bucky and his girl were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything.

On shaky legs he sank to the ground. His back was against the wall and he pulled his knees up, hands covering his face. Bucky’s ragged breathing was still in his ears.

This wasn’t right, he knew what people thought about men like that. Knew how those men ended up thrown in jail, maybe a mental ward or worse.

Jesus, what would Bucky think if he knew?

Steve felt like he was going to be sick. Because this wasn’t- _he_ wasn’t right so Bucky could never know. He took a deep breath and made an effort to calm down.

This had been naturally building since they were little. Bucky had already come to mean so much, was it so surprising that he meant this too. This was already something he had been living with, had always been feeling and now it was properly defined.

He rubbed his forehead and exhaled sharply. In all the ways the night could have gone Steve never expected this to be one them.

“Hey pal you okay?”

“Christ!” Steve startled at Bucky’s voice and looked up to see his friend.

“What would Sister Agnes say if she heard you takin’ the lord’s name in vain like that?” Bucky’s eyes shone with amusement and he offered Steve a hand to help him up. Steve stared at the hand dumbly.

“What? Are you planning on camping out here on the ground tonight? Let’s go home it’s gonna get real cold soon.” He hadn’t waited for Steve to respond before he simply grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him up.

“I don’t think Sister Agnes would approve much of you scaring me either.” Steve wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. Bucky’s hand was still around his as he started leading them down the street.

Bucky’s laugh pulled his focus away. “No maybe not huh?”

Bucky was smiling at him again. His dark hair was messy from where that girl had been running her hands through it, his mouth was reddened and his shirt was rumpled. Steve took it all in and knew that no, it wasn’t surprising Bucky meant this to him too.

He smiled weakly back and pulled his hand free; afraid Bucky would feel how clammy it was becoming in his grasp. Bucky studied him for a moment.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, are you feeling okay? Are you getting sick again?”

Steve’s smile grew a little wider because there went Bucky worrying about him too much. The concern was familiar and that was when Steve knew nothing had to change. No one would ever have to know about the shift in Steve’s world, he would make sure of that. As long as he still got to see Bucky smile at him like that, he would make damn sure.

“Yeah Buck I’m fine.”

 

That was how Steve ended up keeping a secret for much longer than he should have had to. When death should have found him when he crashed into murky water and the ice took him instead.

 

**

It was by some sick twist of fate that the both of them end up reunited like this, one taken out time and the other whose time was stolen.

**

 

Their encounter on the helicarrier left Steve in bad shape and that was an understatement. The fall had left his bones broken, his muscles bruised, he had nearly drowned and it didn’t help that he had been shot a few times. The doctors had to re-break some of the bones that had started healing the wrong way. Being in the hospital was uncomfortable and the healing process couldn’t finish fast enough. Throughout all of it there had been one thought weighing on him.

Bucky.

_You’re my mission._

_Then finish it._

As soon as he was well enough his first instinct was to find his friend and help him. It was all he could think about. When that mask had fallen to reveal it was _Bucky_ on road with him it been a complete shock to his system. It shouldn’t have been possible and yet there they were.

Their years apart had changed dozens of things, the world around them was completely different and Steve wasn’t the same person he had been in 1943. But time hadn’t been able to make his feelings fade. They probably never would. Bucky had been too much a part of him for that to happen. That was why losing him the first time had been one of the most painful experiences of Steve’s life.

And God, Steve couldn’t think about that, the guilt threatened to consume him only it would be much worse this time. Because it wasn’t just that he hadn’t been able to save Bucky from falling, not to mention it was because of him Bucky had been there in the first place. Now it was because Bucky had survived and Zola found him again; stripping him of everything that made him Bucky and leaving a blank space. A weapon to be used rather than a person.

He had read the file Natasha gave him and its contents filled Steve with anger so strong he wanted to bring back Zola and Pierce just so he could have the pleasure of killing them. They deserved worse for what they had done. The pain Bucky must have gone through losing his arm, being tortured by having his mind wiped and then forced into ice when he had served his purpose. If Steve hadn’t failed to save his friend a second time none of that would have happened, the Winter Soldier may never have existed.

Except, there was a twisted part of Steve that was grateful. Living in the 21st century was so _lonely_. Seeing Peggy was more painful than anything and everyone else he had known was long dead. He hadn’t quite figured out how he fit in this modern era and some days he didn’t feel like trying to. On bad days like that a part of Steve ached for his best friend. He would have done anything to get him back and now he had. Maybe it wasn’t the same Bucky from his past, but it was still Bucky and Steve cared for him. So deep down he couldn’t help being a little selfish, it was fucked up but Steve never claimed to be perfect.

This time he wouldn’t leave Bucky behind, he was determined not to fail again.

 

**

Sam was a good friend, he was easy to talk to and could more than hold his own in a fight. He didn’t try to talk Steve out his self-given mission and turned out to be really useful backup as Steve started his search.

The Winter Solider however had decades of knowledge and experience when it came to matters of stealth and disappearing and he was proving to be impossible to find.

They never came across anything concrete. It was always whispers and maybes and false leads. It was like the Winter Soldier had ceased to exist, there was no reported activity, no more missions being completed, not even a sighting of him. Weeks of chasing ghosts and coming up with nothing left him feeling defeated and desperate.

The thing was, there was something, call it a gut feeling or instinct, telling Steve he was close. Like maybe he was just a few steps behind, that Bucky was right here and Steve only needed to look that little bit more. Sometimes he thought he felt the gaze of familiar eyes on him. Every time he turned around hoping to catch it no one was there.

His frustration came to a head when one night in Bucharest they had received what seemed like solid information. The Winter Soldier was supposedly holed up in some apartment in the city. Hope settled in Steve and he tried to ignore it because they had already faced too much disappointment.

When they had broken in and expected to be met with a fight, all they found was a long abandoned space. The electricity wasn’t working, the windows boarded up and plaster covered the walls. Steve had slammed his shield into the ground and almost screamed.

The morning following that incident Steve was feeling particularly discouraged. He was stubborn enough to go to the ends of the earth to find Bucky and it seemed like he might have to.

It was early morning, the sun beginning to rise. Steve had barely slept, had kept trying to think of and plan out what their next move should be, where they should go next. Not that this was anything new, since the start Steve hadn’t been sleeping well. It felt like every day that passed with no leads was another day Bucky got farther out of his reach. His hands itched for paper and pencil, to sketch some of his anxiety away. Instead he tapped his fingers against the wooden table he was sitting at.

Sam entered the room and interrupted his thoughts. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Would you believe me if I said I had?”

Sam considered him for a moment then said, “No man you look like hell.”

Steve chuckled, at least he was being honest. “Well you’d be right.”

“I know I am, now is there any coffee in this damn place?” He started moving around in the small kitchen; opening and shutting cabinets, not seeming to find what he wanted.

“No but I saw a place when we were coming in.” Steve stood up from the wobbly chair he’d been sitting in, “I don’t mind going to get some.” The fresh air might do him some good. Sam nodded in agreement. As Steve was putting on his jacket he spoke again.

“Hey I know last night was rough, you feeling okay?”

Steve kept his back to Sam and got to the door as quick as he could. “Don’t worry I’ll be fine.” He appreciated the concern, but this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about right now. Sam was considerate enough to let it go.

Despite the early hour the streets were getting busy. Shops were opening and people were starting their day. It was a simple task to find the run down cafe and get two regular coffees. He took his time walking back, letting the sounds of the awakening city wash over him. The mindless noise distracted him from his own unsettled thoughts. Steve wasn’t sure what their next step should be. They couldn’t keep working off of faulty information. Yet, that was all that was available to them and it was beyond maddening.

His coffee tasted bitter, it reminded him of the stuff they had back on the front lines in the war. Life had been simpler then, there was a clear enemy to be fought and he’d had Bucky at his side. He never thought he would long to be back there.

It had been while he was pondering this that he saw it; the glint of sunlight off a metal arm.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t more than a few feet in front of him, his back to Steve. Steve recognized the dark hair, the strong jawline and the shadow of stubble. Back when they were just two guys from Brooklyn living together Steve once wondered how that would feel, to kiss Bucky after he hadn’t shaved for a couple days. He had imagined he would revel in the burn of it, of being reminded that it was Bucky he was kissing. Regardless, past fantasies were not important at the moment.

Steve did his best to blend in with crowd, careful not to get too close. He could hear his pulse thudding in his ears while the rest of him felt numb. This had to be a dream, it couldn’t be this easy.

Bucky wore nondescript clothes, jeans with a navy jacket that hid most of his arm, the light must have caught on his hand earlier when it had drawn Steve’s attention. He hadn’t quickened his pace when Steve began following and he gave no indication that he was aware of Steve’s presence.

Back up, he needed back up, to call Sam and get him over here before he lost Bucky. His phone should have been in the pocket of his jacket. Tossing the coffee in the next trash he passed, he reached for his phone and found his pockets to be empty. To be sure he double checked and even patted down the rest of his clothes, no dice. He must have left it back on the table. Damn it all he hadn’t brought his shield with him either; he berated himself for being so thoughtless. There was no time to come up with another plan. Steve had to manage this on his own.

If possible he wanted to avoid harming civilians, which meant he needed to get Bucky somewhere more secluded, away from the rapidly filling streets. A task made easier when Bucky turned down an emptier side road. Anticipation built up in Steve. In a few more paces he could catch up, pull him into alley and try to subdue him there; use the element of surprise to his advantage. He tried not to think about the fact that the last time they fought Steve had ended up in the hospital.

Just a few more steps.

He was about to make his move, tensing up, heart in his throat when Bucky made another sharp turn. Steve lost sight of him for a single moment but it was more than enough. Not caring about stealth anymore he ran ahead and rounded the same corner.

It was a dead end.

Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn it!” Anger welled up in him and he crashed his fist into one of the brick walls. The force of it left a dull impression in the wall. Unbelievable. He had been right _there._

Suddenly Steve was being shoved against that same wall. A metal hand closed around his throat before he could react and held him. Automatically his own hands flew up and grasped the metal, fighting to escape and get air. Bucky’s hold was unyielding and he pressed harder the more Steve struggled.

“Stop, I don’t want to fight you, just listen to me.”

This gave Steve pause. The harsh grip loosened. He stopped but kept his hands wrapped around Bucky’s metal hand. Bucky’s eyes were hard when they met Steve’s. Earlier he hadn’t noticed Bucky’s hair wasn’t as long as it had been when they last met. It was still longer than he would have had back during the war, messy and falling in his face. Steve swallowed and waited for him to speak.

“I know who think I am and I’m not the same man you lost.”

Breathing harsh Steve said, “Let me help you, we can-”

Bucky slammed his other hand into the wall by Steve’s head.

“Don’t.” Voice strained he continued, “You don’t know what I’ve done. How dangerous I am. I’m not even sure how to be a person, you shouldn’t be anywhere near me Steve.” Bucky was up in his space, his hold loosening until it was little more than a light touch on his neck. Something gentler and almost loving.

Steve cautiously slid one of his hands up to Bucky’s face and kept the other one held against the metal palm on his neck. He had to convince Bucky to let him help.

“We were close once Buck, you have to let me try.”

Bucky’s expression became pained. “I know why you want to, you want what we had before and I don’t think I can give you that.”

Steve couldn’t accept that. The all too real possibility existed they wouldn’t have the friendship they used to have. Steve could live with that. That didn’t mean they couldn’t try building another relationship, something different but just as good.

“I can’t just let you go, you…” Steve mentally scrambled to find the right words. “you’re too important to me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “I know.”

Steve stiffened in surprise when Bucky came nearer, brought his mouth to the other side of Steve’s neck. His metal hand slid to the back of Steve’s head and up into his blonde hair. Steve clutched at Bucky’s shoulder and his chest felt too tight, like he was about to have an asthma attack.

Words and sanity abandoned him as Bucky’s lips ghosted over his skin, breath hot and distracting. Each point of contact sending warm sparks shooting through him. Steve had no idea what the hell Bucky was doing. He knew he didn’t want him to stop.

Then Bucky murmured in his ear. “God, I wish I could make you mine again. But it’s not safe.”

Confusion helped Steve find his voice.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Bucky didn’t pick up on his bewilderment and brought his mouth closer; lips hovering over Steve’s.

“I mean this.”

And with that he pressed their lips together, making the kiss deep right away. He kissed Steve like he was starved for it, tongue tasting and seeking out every corner of his mouth. A moan hitched in Steve’s chest as Bucky claimed his mouth with sure, possessive movements. His hands held Steve firmly in place.

Steve was frozen. There was no way he could pull away even if he wanted to; and he definitely didn’t want to. Every reason he could think of to stop wouldn’t stay in his head long enough to have any effect, like leaves blown away in the wind. Bucky used the hand he had on Steve’s neck to pull him closer; his thumb lightly stroking against the pulse point there.

He decided this had to be a dream and was about to kiss back with enthusiasm when Bucky pulled away. His eyes were closed and he sounded a little out of breath.

“Why did you do that?” The question left Steve's lips without consideration. Bucky kissing him was messing with his head, thoughts not coming together like they normally did.

Now Bucky looked confused. He opened his eyes, his gaze calculating.

“Because we were together, before.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve did nothing to hide his shock.

What he saw in Steve’s face caused Bucky to close off. The heat in eyes was replaced with emptiness. Bucky took his hands off Steve and stepped back. Steve missed the heat from his proximity.

“We never did this, did we? We weren’t lovers.”

Steve might have blushed had he heard that any other time. Right then he wanted nothing more than to say, ‘ _Yes, we were and I loved you more than anything’_ and then go back to kissing. But it didn’t work that way, it couldn't work that way. And he could never do that to Bucky.

“No, we weren’t.”

Bucky nodded and continued to step back. Steve panicked because he could see he was losing his friend. He reached out for him.

“Wait Bucky, that doesn’t mean I-”

A sound similar to gunfire startled Steve. Immediately he turned to seek out the danger to find it had been a car backfire.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that when he turned to face Bucky he was gone. Back to wherever the hell he appeared from in the first place. He ran down the nearby streets to find him anyways. In all likelihood it was a lost cause but he had to try.

 

*

Eventually he had to go back to Sam. Odds were he was worried about him. After all it didn’t take that long to get a couple coffees. On the way back his mind was racing.

That hadn’t been the Winter Soldier he’d talked to. He recognized Steve, had called him by his name. Maybe it wasn’t entirely Bucky either, yet that didn’t matter. This was still his friend, perhaps a different more broken version of him. No matter what, Steve would stick by him.

And then there was the kiss to consider.

Thinking about it made his blood pump faster and warmer. The sense memory of it would be seared into his head forever. Why had Bucky thought they had been together? No reasonable answer came to him. Then again he couldn’t think very clearly when he could still taste Bucky on his tongue.

He didn’t tell Sam what happened, probably should have and didn’t.

Sam wasn’t stupid and most likely knew something had gone down despite the fact Steve wasn’t saying anything. Especially considering the state Steve was in when he got back, disheveled and coffee-less. Still, he accepted Steve’s excuses and didn’t question the new found passion Steve brought to finding Bucky.

Bucky remained elusive as ever.

 

**

While they were in Munich Fury contacted him about a possible Hydra base back in the States. Sam convinced him to go back. It was evident Bucky would not going to be found unless he wanted to be.

“I know you need to find your friend, but it’s been months and we still haven’t found anything. Right now we could do the world a whole lot of good by getting rid of some of these bastards, you in?”

Steve knew he was right and conceded. This mission of Fury’s was only supposed to take a couple weeks anyway, the base was apparently a smaller operation and would probably only need a small team to take it out. Plus it would bring him close enough to home that he could stay at his own place. He was still reluctant to stop, and had to keep reminding himself it was temporary.

On the plane ride back to the U.S. Steve ended up sitting by the window. It was dark outside so there wasn’t much to see. For the first half of the flight Steve was restless and kept fidgeting in his seat; there was the growing sense that he was abandoning his friend.

How was he supposed to find someone who didn’t want to be found?

 

**

When they eventually landed it was late in New York. Steve was feeling exhausted and craved sleep in his own bed. A car at the airport was waiting to take him to his apartment. As soon as he got there and opened the door he was greeted to the sight of a couple of small boxes lined up on his kitchen counter. Wary, he went over to investigate. He found a note from Natasha on top of the first one.

_Your request to the Smithsonian for your old sketchbooks went through._

Steve was too tired to care that the note didn’t make much sense. He couldn’t remember putting in a request for his old sketchbooks. In any case, he could sort it out later; some drawings from his past weren’t a pressing concern of his. Steve ended up bringing the boxes to his room and pushing them under the bed, already forgetting about it.

Without bothering to change first he collapsed on top of the covers of his bed, sleep quick to take him.

 

**

Steve knew he was being followed. Or perhaps being watched was the better term for it. He had no tangible evidence other than the fact he could just feel it. That primal instinct of prey knowing it was being stalked by a predator. It was that same gut feeling he had gotten when they had been looking for Bucky; and like then he was sure the cause was the same in this case. Call it wishful thinking, he was sure it was his friend.

He had been back for a few days when he first felt it. A prickling on the back of his neck that always came when someone was staring at you. At the moment he had brushed it off. Then the sense wouldn’t leave and Steve wasn’t sure what to think.

Then again maybe he was imagining it. After all, he was so ardent in his personal mission to help Bucky he thought he saw him everywhere. On the streets he kept looking for the shine of metal and dark hair to no avail. Plus Bucky had been the one to insist Steve stay away so it wouldn’t make much sense for him to be seeking Steve out now.

Not that everything Bucky did made sense, the kiss was proof enough of that.

Steve tried not to think about it, any of it. His focus needed to be on the mission at hand, taking out this Hydra base. The sooner he accomplished that the sooner he could figure out what to do about Bucky.

This mission Fury had given him seemed simple enough. The Hydra operation they were dealing with was smaller than most and its main purpose appeared to be that of a research archive of some sort. It was important enough to warrant some security measures against a possible breach but its defenses appeared weak and Steve didn’t think they would have much trouble getting in.

Once they did get in, they were supposed to download what information they could, information on other research projects, locations of other bases, anything they could get. Then it should be a simple task of erasing everything Hydra had there so they wouldn’t have access to it afterwards. It was an intelligence op that required more stealth than force, a ‘get in get out quick’ kind of deal. What resistance they meet should only be the security system, a handful of guards that could be avoided, and any analysts (who weren’t likely to have any combat training) that happened to be there. All of which could be easily dealt with using little force.

The time consuming part of the mission came from surveillance work. In making sure they knew exactly where they were going and what they were doing; planning it out to avoid any problems. Even though it was just him and Sam going in, he was confident they could do this. It was scheduled to happen within the next couple of days and it had all been going smoothly so far.

Steve had wondered why it had been necessary to call him in for this, surely someone else was capable of handling it. Fury had been stubborn and insisted. He had reminded Steve how few people they could really trust at the moment when it came to Hydra. Steve knew his concerns were justifiable, so here he was, back in New York.

He was musing over some blueprints for the building, making sure he had memorized which paths to take when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text message sent from a blocked number.

**Meet me. Now.**

Steve’s heart sped up. Another message came seconds later containing coordinates.

 _Why?_ Steve sent back.

He didn’t bother asking who he was talking to, he already knew. However after their confrontation in the alley he wanted to know why, why contact Steve now.

**I need to remember**

With hands that shook only slightly, he entered the coordinates into his phone. They led to a spot somewhere in New York. Wherever it was, it wasn’t very far, a place he could reach within the next twenty minutes if he left now and took his bike.

Steve didn’t have to think about it he just acted. There was one moment’s hesitation before he grabbed his shield and strapped it to his back. Then he was out the door and moving faster than should have been possible.

The familiar roar of the engine beneath him was comforting. Despite the late hour traffic he managed to weave his way through the streets. He paid the flashing lights and loud sounds of the city no attention. In that moment he had a one track mind focused on getting to where the coordinates led.

But as he sped down roads other thoughts kept creeping in. Thoughts that could best be described as hopes. He hoped that Bucky was done running, that he might even come back with him, that he would continue to remember.

Maybe he hoped that Bucky would kiss him again.

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking the entire ride. He ended up at a park. More specifically the coordinates led to an inconspicuous bench deep inside the park. Steve sat feeling restless. He noticed all the ways he was vulnerable out in the open like this; how it would be easy to sneak up on him and attack. Steve could identify all of this and couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was late, late enough that night had taken the world and made it dark. There wasn’t much moonlight to illuminate anything around him. Not that he needed it to anyways considering the enhanced vision the serum had given him.

Since he had been led to a more secluded area it was quieter. Quiet enough that he was sure he would be able to hear anyone who approached. Still he closed his eyes so he could concentrate better. All he heard was the soft whispering of leaves in the breeze; or if he concentrated enough the distant noise of the city.

Where was Bucky?

Part of him had been disappointed that Bucky hadn’t already been there. The message had been demanding and Steve hadn’t thought he would be sitting here waiting. He half expected Bucky to climb down from a tree and land gracefully on the bench beside him; he wouldn’t put it past him. At any rate he was certain Bucky would show soon.

Yet time continued to pass and not a soul came near.

Unease settled in Steve’s stomach. What was the point in calling a meeting if he wasn’t going to show up to it? If Bucky’s intentions weren’t to see him then he could only guess at what they truly were.

It was difficult to say how long he waited. No matter what sense told him he couldn’t so easily leave without being sure there was no chance Bucky wasn’t coming. Hope continued to fuel his actions.

Eventually he had to give it up as a lost cause. It was clear he wasn’t going to be meeting with anyone. Dispirited and confused he rose from he sat on the wooden bench and walked back to where he’d left his bike. Leaves crunched beneath his feet and a mild breeze continued to swirl around the air.

It didn’t make any sense. There was no point to this; it wasn’t even a trap to try and attack him. The feeling of discontent stayed with him for the rest of the ride back home.

If he hadn’t have been distracted by the whole ordeal he would have noticed something was off the second he entered his apartment. As it was, his mind was still puzzling over it when he realized someone had been inside there recently. It wasn’t that anything was overtly wrong or even missing.

But the air felt disturbed and tiny details seemed out of place. Steve checked all the rooms to make sure no one was hiding, waiting to catch him off guard. His search revealed nobody; whoever had been here was long gone now. And then it all made sense.

Bucky.

It had to have been him. For whatever reason he had wanted Steve out of his apartment; that was why he hadn’t showed up. The question remained though for what purpose.

He came to his own room and it was obvious to him Bucky had been in here. Books on the shelf put back ever so slightly wrong, the bed covers the tiniest bit mussed, the contents of his drawers not quite in the way he had left them; all fine points that Steve probably would have missed if he hadn’t have being looking for them. It was almost like Bucky had been searching for something. What for Steve had no idea. He wracked his brain trying to come up with what he could possibly have that Bucky would want.

Steve looked around his room hoping it would give him answers. It was fairly sparse, functional. There didn’t seem to be anything of value worth taking. Really the only things that might hold worth would be his drawings. They held sentimental value for him and as for others well, the older sketches that he had done that had somehow stood the test of time were priceless. He wasn’t sure how much they were worth exactly but he knew the number for original artwork by Captain America had to be pretty high.

That had been one of the strangest aspects about waking up. Most of his stuff from before the war and during the war had been saved; had been put up in places like the Smithsonian because they had historical value.

That was when it hit him.

The Smithsonian had sent back some of his artwork. Someone had requested it and it hadn’t been Steve, so it was possible it had been…but why would Bucky want it?

He was quick to crouch down and retrieve the boxes he had found when he’d gotten back. Underneath Natasha’s note was another slip of paper from the museum.

**FILES REQUEST: GRANTED as of 2014 April 22**

**Requested by: Steven G. Rogers**

**On the date of: 2014 April 16**

**Requested items: Artwork belonging to Rogers, G Steven**

**Items filed under: Cap. America: Personal**

**Noted: As specified by petitioner of request, all work not on display from before the year 1941 has been enclosed**

From before 1941, that meant it was the work he had done before the war had started. More curious now Steve opened the first box and took out the sketchbook on top. Carefully he flipped through it, attempting to see what Bucky could have been looking for.

Nothing unusual stood out to him. There were a lot of scenes from their old apartment, the view from their window, some of the dance halls Bucky had dragged him that he had drawn from memory.

_I need to remember_

Bucky’s message from earlier repeated itself in his head. Maybe this is what he had meant, that he had thought going through these would help reclaim some of his memory. Steve continued to sift through the drawings. Taking care not to get too distracted by them up until he came across one of Bucky.

In the picture he was asleep, that was really the only time Bucky would be still long enough for Steve to draw him. His hair was tousled and both of his arms were underneath his head. He had been laying on his stomach and complaining to Steve how bored he was before he had drifted off.

Steve remembered hearing how deep Bucky’s breathing sounded when he had fallen asleep. He remembered liking how serene Bucky looked like; how he had wanted to capture the moment. There had been a moment’s pause and then he had grabbed his sketchbook.

While he drew he had been paranoid Bucky would wake up and catch him. With Bucky sleeping he didn’t have to hide the affection he felt while he sketched him. He had been sure that if he drew Bucky while he was awake he would realize the way Steve looked at him and _know._ However the minutes passed and Bucky remained dead to the world and Steve managed to get a relatively detailed picture out of it.

Looking down at the picture in his hands Steve’s heart faltered as he realized how simple their lives used to be. Back before he was Captain America and Bucky was made into the Winter Soldier. He wished they could just be Steve and Bucky.

Steve took one last glimpse at Bucky’s relaxed form then went back to the task at hand.

He finished going through the first box with nothing sticking out to him. For all he knew this was a giant waste of time. Steve sighed as he opened up the second box, might as well go through that one too, it couldn’t hurt. When he opened it up the dark navy cover of the first sketchbook was unfamiliar to him. Curious he picked it up and flipped through the first few pages. They were all blank.

That didn’t seem like him to skip pages. He progressed through the pad and it seemed to be more of the same blank white. The only thing that appeared to have touched the paper was blankets of dust.

At least that was what he thought until he reached the middle. He saw Bucky’s messy handwriting faint across the top of a page. Steve was momentarily amused at the idea of Bucky keeping a journal. It seemed unreadable at first which wasn’t surprising considering how old these sketchbooks were.

The more he studied the writing he was able to make out what the words were.

_‘You drive me so damn crazy…’_

_‘all I want to do is kiss you’_

A frown tugged at Steve’s lips. A suspicious weight settled in his stomach and it grew the more he read.

_‘my mouth between your thighs’_

_‘hate wanting you this bad’_

_‘you could be the right partner for me’_

_‘you can’t imagine how much I want to take’_

Steve felt numb as he took in the notes. All he heard was static noise. Dread and disbelief drowned everything else out.

The more he read the more frantic he felt; flipping the pages so roughly at times he nearly ripped them.

The entries continued onto the last page. The final entry was dated from right before Bucky had left to go fight in the war. Steve remembered their goodbye the morning Bucky left.

 

 

Steve almost crumbled the pages from how tight he was holding them. By some miracle he didn’t, he put the sketchbook down with care back into the box. He wasn’t here and Bucky still managed to so thoroughly shock him. Steve stared dumbly at nothing in particular; unsure of how to process it all.

God Bucky had been, even before the war he,

while Steve too,

so much wasted time, they had _both_ -

It was _unfair._

For so long Steve hid what he felt, at the time convinced he had been born wrong and not wanting to inflict that on Bucky. Every day careful not to let it show; to be satisfied with just friendship.

His breathing was fast and shallow. He wondered if this was what panic attacks felt like.

To find out the whole time Bucky had felt the same was too much.

_‘I love you’_

He tried to imagine how that would sound from Bucky’s lips.

They had both been idiots. They could have had so much more if they hadn’t been so afraid. All that wasted time haunted Steve. All of those moments when glances or touches had lingered too long.

The injustice of it all overwhelmed him. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do; all he wanted to do was find a way to turn back the clock. Rationally he knew that was impossible and irrationally that frustrated him. He wanted a punching bag to beat his grievances out on.

The buzz of his phone from a text message pulled him out of his reverie. Maybe it was-

Not Bucky, he saw Sam’s name instead of a blocked number.

**Our timetable has been moved up, we have to move ASAP**

Steve reread the message twice then realized its meaning. They had to complete their mission tonight.

That meant he needed to push this newfound knowledge aside and do his job. For a couple more moments he allowed himself to feel upset. Through force of will he buried all his frustration under his sense of duty. It wasn’t healthy to ignore this, Steve knew that. But it was the only way he could make himself move. To get up off the floor and prepare for the mission instead of running away and finding Bucky that very second.

He purposefully cleared his head and moved on autopilot, going through the motions using minimal conscious thought. With efficiency he dressed and picked up his shield. He could do this, he could go be Captain America and ignore the problems of Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to end this with this chapter but then things kind of kept happening? The next chapter will be the end....at least I'm pretty sure it will...


	4. Making Promises

It was quiet as they crept down the hallways.

Sam was at his side and tensed for a fight, prepared to take on anyone they might come across. Steve considered them to be lucky so far; they had encountered a couple of security agents and it had been easy to knock them out. Hiding their unconscious bodies had been another matter entirely. After some searching they found a big enough storage closet to shove them into. Hopefully before they woke up he and Sam would already be gone. The point, after all, was that they had to do this mission without being discovered.

Steve felt on edge, the quiet was disconcerting. He gripped his shield tighter. It was like the entire building was silent save for their soft footfalls.

Then again Steve had felt tense since he left for reasons that had nothing to do with Hydra or this mission. Things, he reminded himself, that he still wasn’t allowed to think about yet.

Despite that, he was distracted enough he almost went down the wrong hallway. Sam grabbed his elbow and gave him a questioning look. Steve shook his head and shrugged him off. It’s not like he could explain why he had been uneasy since the start of this. They turned down the right path. A couple more turns and they should be at the room they wanted.

Steve was somewhat surprised. He was sure there would have been more security than this. That there would be more than just empty hallways and a couple of guards. It didn’t sit well with Steve. Maybe he was being paranoid, maybe he wasn’t either way something felt off.

He looked over at Sam and quietly asked, “This seem almost too easy to you?”

Sam shrugged and replied in the same tone, “Somethin doesn’t feel right, you think they know we’re here?”

Steve had wondered that, but if Hydra knew they were here then surely they would have tried to stop them by now. “I’m not sure” he said.

The two of them rounded one last corner and their goal was in sight.

“Well it shouldn’t matter, we’re already here.” Sam said.

They came up to the door and Steve resolved to work fast so they could get out of there. He pulled out the security badge Fury had given them that should unlock it. Sam turned around to stand guard while Steve slid the card into place. After a moment the card was read and the small screen above the badge slot glowed red. Big block letters came on the screen as **NO ACCESS**.

Steve stared at the screen; he knew he put the card in right. He pulled it back out and put it in the other way.

**NO ACCESS**

He removed the card and tried it again.

**NO ACCESS**

Steve told himself he wasn’t frustrated.

“What are you doing over there?” Sam turned back to him impatient.

“It’s not working.” Steve looked around for another way in. An air vent high on the wall drew his attention.

“You sure you’re doing it right?” Sam held his hand out for the badge. “Let me try.”

“Because there are so many ways to do this?” Steve remarked with a slight smile. He handed the badge over to Sam. “Give it a try but I think Fury’s sources must be outdated.”

Steve left Sam in favor of examining the vent. The screws would be easy to pull out and it wouldn’t be hard to use his enhanced strength to jump and pull himself up into the ventilation system. From there he could crawl through to the other room and get what they needed. He was confident he could deal with anyone who was in there on his own.

Sam cursed in frustration and Steve turned to see the same **NO ACCESS** message. They might as well try his plan instead of sitting there with a faulty card.

“I can go in through the vents.”

Sam looked back at him. “What?”

Steve pointed up at the air vent. “Through here, I can climb up, get in get out and then we leave. It’ll be easy.”

Sam didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know man, I don’t like the idea of you going in there alone.”

Steve could understand that. He wouldn’t want to send someone into the unknown either. “I know but we don’t have many other options and the longer we stay here the more likely someone will find us. I’ll go in, you stay here and deal with anyone who comes by.”

Sam nodded in hesitant agreement and Steve set to work on the vent. Soon enough he was finished. “Make sure your comm link is on.” He told Sam and then he was hoisting himself up and into the cramped metal space.

Steve crawled forward as fast as he was able, which wasn’t as quick as he would have liked due to the tight fit. The vent he wanted shouldn’t be too far away and for that Steve was grateful because claustrophobia was already creeping in. Dust rose and stuck to him everywhere, getting in his face and on his clothes as he disturbed the stagnant air. It was hot inside the vents since the air wasn’t on so he could feel sweat sliding down his neck.

“Next time you get to crawl around inside the walls.” Steve muttered into his comm. Sam’s laughter sounded in his earpiece.

Before long he found the vent he was sure would lead him to the right place. He punched the grate out and quickly dropped to the ground. Steve drew his shield, expecting a fight. Nothing happened and Steve stood still, tensed and ready.

He blinked at the empty room.

“Everything okay in there?”

Steve shook off his surprise and answered. “I’m fine, I made it in. Nobody’s here.”

Static crackled over the comms and then Sam sounded as surprised, “Really? Work fast, nobody has been by out here either. This whole thing is giving me a bad feeling.”

Steve didn’t disagree.

He put his shield on his back to free his hands. The computer console wasn’t difficult to figure out and within minutes Steve had placed the memory drive in and found the files they wanted.

The second he clicked to download everything the roar of an explosion knocked him to the ground. He landed hard on his back, the shield slamming into him when he fell on it.

Fire seemed to be everywhere and he was vaguely aware of Sam shouting something over the comms and then he was cut out entirely. Another blast shook the room and the walls started crumbling. His head felt heavy and fuzzy; it was a struggle to gather his thoughts.

Steve knew he had to leave, had to get out of there before the room collapsed on him.

He tried to get up and failed. Intense pain shot up from his legs. Frantic, Steve looked down to see a couple of steel support beams had fallen and trapped his legs. Black smoke was taking what felt like all the oxygen from the room and scraped at Steve’s throat.

He must have split his head when he fell because blood was running down the left side of his face and getting in his eye. Steve was attempting to sit up again to move one of the steel beams when another explosion, this one farther away coming from the hallways, rocked the remaining foundation. He prayed Sam was still alive and could make it out.

More of the ceiling caved and fell in pieces. Steve struggled to _move._ One brutal piece of plaster in particular broke over Steve’s head and everything went black.

 

**

Steve was getting a little bit sick of hospitals.

Since the serum he thought it would be a pretty rare occurrence to have to go to one. However this was the second time within the last year he had woken up on a hospital bed. Really, the one time had been more than enough. This time the doctors estimated, with his heightened healing, he would be released within the next couple of weeks so at least he had that. The damage to his lungs and legs could have been worse had he been pulled out of there later.

In the first few days after he had come to, he had been informed Sam had managed to make it out alive. He had been bruised up badly and it would take him some time until he was back at a hundred percent but he had made it out and that was what mattered.

Hydra had to have known they were coming. The entire mission had been a bust. Possibly that meant Fury had more security leaks than he thought, Steve wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he was tired of not knowing who and who couldn’t be trusted. It was exhausting. And it made the idea of getting Bucky back even more appealing; back during the war there had been no one else he had trusted more.

Steve had also found out that it hadn’t been Sam to get him out. It was what he had to first assume considering Sam had been the only there. This had been a dubious assumption at best seeing as it would have taken a substantial amount of strength to move both those beams. Sam was not the one responsible though. That begged the question, who had it been?

Steve had a pretty strong suspicion he knew.

Which brought him back to thinking about what he had discovered back in his old drawings, the notes he had found. As the days passed a not so new resolve took hold in Steve. Bucky was sure to close by and Steve was determined to talk to him. Steve had to tell him about before, what he had felt too, what he still could feel.

Nothing had to happen. Steve didn’t expect they would fall into each other’s arms straight away and live happily ever after. Their lives were far too complicated for that to happen.

But the possibility for more existed. Especially in this new, more accepting era they found themselves in.

Either way Steve owed Bucky this. The knowledge that his feelings had not been one sided. He owed the both of them this; they had wanted so much once.

 

**

The more Steve thought about it, the more he was sure it had to have been Bucky to pull him from that room. It hadn’t been one of Fury’s agents and it sure as hell hadn’t been any Hydra agents so that left Bucky. Steve was willing to bet he hadn’t gone far either, if Bucky had been concerned enough for his safety to pull him from a burning building then Steve hoped that meant Bucky had stuck around long enough to make sure he was okay.

It made sense in a Bucky kind of way. He had always worried about Steve.

Steve left the hospital already cycling through plans to reach Bucky. He was going to stop by his apartment to grab some necessities and then go off on his own. Sam wasn’t well enough to come with him this time which was regrettable while necessary. Steve felt like the sooner he got moving the better chance he would have. Time was a pressure that caused a sense of urgency to flood his system.

Soon he was back at his place and unlocking the door with efficiency. The first place he could start was with the blocked number Bucky had used, maybe he could find a way to track it or perhaps he should investigate the Smithsonian first; see if Bucky had left any traceable leads when he had requested the artwork.

Steve’s thoughts were still racing when he stepped through the door only to be immediately shoved backwards. The door slammed closed as his back was pushed against it. Very quickly he was met by another body pressing close to his, taking up all of his space. Since it was dark in his apartment Steve couldn’t see who had been apparently waiting for him to come home.

His automatic reaction was to struggle. Steve was about to force his way free when he felt cool, _metal_ fingertips rest on his face. Then all the organized thoughts he had were gone, replaced by a focus on touch, on _who_ was touching him.

It was the alleyway all over; Steve’s muscles froze in place. His arms were limp at his sides as Bucky came closer, desperation written in every line of his body. Steve closed his eyes at the distracting sensation of having Bucky’s lips on him, something he wasn’t sure he would get to experience again. He dragged his mouth up Steve’s neck to his ear.

“Fuck, Steve do you have any idea what it was like seeing you like that again? Having to get you out of danger again?”

Steve didn’t have a chance to reply because Bucky sealed their mouths together in a rough kiss. There was no way he could stay motionless with Bucky kissing him like that, all barely contained fervor and want.

He pulled back to talk between kisses. “I don’t know if I believe you, about before. I can’t stop thinking about touching you, how right it feels to be touching you.” His voice sounded almost broken the longer he went on. “But then I have these memories; they’re of you and you look different. We’re both different. You’re smaller and I want to kiss you so badly but I don’t.” He got his hands under Steve’s jacket, dragging it down his arms and off. “Why don’t I kiss you? Why can’t I remember kissing you?”

His hold on Steve tightened. He continued to touch everywhere, like he could find the answers he wanted somewhere on Steve’s body if he looked hard enough. Steve was making an attempt to explain about everything but it came out more like frenzied rambling.

“No I-

Before we really didn’t-

But I really wanted-

Wanted _you_ so much-“

Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky understood what he said. He seemed to understand enough because he was kissing him again more deeply, flavoring the kiss with need. Bucky’s tongue took store of all the secrets of Steve’s mouth, learning the wet texture of his tongue, catching on teeth and shifting back to the softness of lips with Steve barely able to keep up.

It was intoxicating. It was an assault on Steve’s senses he wasn’t sure how to stop. Bucky was everywhere, his hands pulling at Steve’s hair, running down his shoulders and neck, gliding down his chest and sides to the hem of his shirt and rucking it up to feel more.

At first Steve couldn’t think past his need to get at more skin, to feel more of Bucky too. His hands grasped at Bucky’s hips and pulled him closer. Steve failed at holding back a moan when Bucky forcefully parted his legs and pushed his thigh between them. He started moving against him in absolutely filthy ways making Steve crazy; grinding, purposeful movements that had Steve hard in minutes.

This was going too fast wasn’t it? A vague idea was pushing its way to the forefront of Steve’s head though it was impossible to realize with Bucky’s insistent mouth and hands working against him.

When they had to part for air it became easier to think. Steve was drawing in harsh breaths and he tried to speak.

“We should talk; we don’t have to do this.”

Bucky didn’t stop where he was mouthing at Steve’s neck. He could feel Bucky’s teeth and tongue working with his lips to suck light marks into the skin there. It was sending more sparks of arousal through him and he shuddered from the sense of it.

“I wanna do this.” His mouth slid over Steve’s throat, “I need this.”

Steve didn’t know the words to deny him, especially this. He pulled Bucky up so he could look him in the eyes. He kept his hand curved his head, fingers idly stroking through dark hair.

“I know Buck, me too.”

Bucky’s eyes were clouded over with lust when they met Steve’s. He nodded once and it seemed that was all he needed to go back to claiming Steve’s neck. His metal hand held Steve in place at the juncture between shoulder and neck while both of Steve’s hands clutched at Bucky’s shoulders. His real hand traced a sure path back down to Steve’s trousers and Steve gasped as he realized Bucky was undoing his belt. The sound of his zipper being pulled down filled him with nervous excitement.

“What are you- _oh_ , that feels-”

The rest of the sentence was cut off from Bucky’s skilled fingers going into his pants with no hesitation and taking his cock in hand. Using slow and deliberate strokes he drove Steve mad. Without meaning to, Steve shallowly thrust his hips seeking more friction. More moans were drawn out of Steve’s throat without his permission and his hands must have been digging into Bucky’s shoulders from how hard he was holding on.

“Look at you. You’re perfect and already close from just my hand.” Bucky leaned in so his lips were at Steve’s ear again; his hand working Steve closer and closer to the edge. “Seeing you this way makes me wanna know more, like what you look like spread out underneath me.”

Steve could have come right there but then Bucky whispered, “I need, can I fuck you? I want to remember what it’s like to be inside you, please?”

Steve couldn’t even be bothered to correct him because _yes_. Desire flowed in his veins, stronger and more urgent than anything he had ever felt. It bled through him, consumed him, the image of it making him breathless and impossibly more aroused.

“ _Please_ , I want you to.”

Bucky moaned, breath hot against Steve’s neck. He gave Steve one last firm stroke and took his hand back only to grab Steve’s wrist and lead him down the hallway.

Steve wasn’t paying attention to where they were going and stumbled after Bucky. In hindsight he probably should have because they came to a room; however when Bucky flipped the light switch it revealed Steve’s kitchen instead of his bedroom.

Not that it seemed to stop Bucky. He pulled Steve forward and pushed him to sit on the table. Steve complied without pause, too preoccupied by the rush that came from Bucky manhandling him. Bucky stepped away and Steve took the chance to get some air back into his lungs. He watched as Bucky quickly rifled through his cabinets. Within moments he found what he was looking for and came back with a bottle of olive oil.

“There isn’t a bed here.” Steve said with a slight smile. Bucky stood between his legs and started to pull off his own shirt.

“Doesn’t matter.”

His shirt dropped to the floor and he set to work on his belt. Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of Bucky bared in front of him, so much pale skin that he wanted to taste and mark.

“So we are really gonna…”

“Yes.”

Steve hadn’t been able to bring himself to say it. Bucky seemed to know regardless. Then his pants fell to the ground and Bucky was stepping out of them and oh God, Bucky was naked in his kitchen, hard for _Steve_ of all people. It was difficult to believe this was real _._ He saw abused and scarred flesh where skin met metal on Bucky’s shoulder. A callous reminder of everything his friend had suffered.

“Bucky.” The name came softly, strangled, a hundred subtle meanings in his tone. He wanted to tell Bucky how badly he wished he had gone back and looked for him, how much he regretted he didn’t.

Bucky’s hands were back on him and he was kissing Steve deeply, thoroughly, earnestly.

“I know.” He said against his lips. “I know.”

But he didn’t.

Steve broke away to bring his mouth to Bucky’s shoulder and kissed his apologies into the scars there.

“I’m so sorry.” Steve whispered into the metal. The sense of urgency, of _want_ and _now_ was back. It was like all the air had gone out of the room and Steve couldn’t get close enough to Bucky.

Bucky met his enthusiasm for a moment then pulled away and held Steve’s face in his palms. He locked eyes with Steve, said with a firm voice, “You ain’t got anything to be sorry for.”

Steve knew that wasn’t true. He also knew this wasn’t the time to argue about it. So he leaned forward and left a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips instead of answering. He sat back long enough to get his own shirt off and dragged Bucky near so they were pressed _skin to skin_. Steve had no idea such simple contact could feel that good. Bucky accepted his silence on the issue and their lips met in another messy kiss as their hands explored each other.

Then Bucky pushed on his chest, guiding him to lie down. The table was solid and unyielding beneath him. Steve’s breathing sounded too loud in his own ears. His nerves were on edge and he was profoundly aware of Bucky’s fingers, hot points of contact, pulling the rest of his clothes off.

When he was just as naked, Steve might have been more nervous to have another person seeing him like this. He could hardly say he had experience in this area. But this was Bucky, and he muttered ‘perfect’ when he leaned down over Steve, kissing a path over Steve’s collarbone and up to his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of tasting Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky straightened up and unscrewed the olive oil. “If you want me to stop tell me.”

All Steve could do was nod because anxiety was warring with lust and he couldn’t think about anything other than what was about to happen.

“I’m serious Steve, I don’t wanna hurt you. I want you to promise me you’ll say somethin.”

“I promise, but you won’t hurt me. I trust you.” In this Steve was certain.

Bucky looked like he wanted to kiss him again and Steve licked his lips in anticipation. Instead he pushed Steve’s legs a little further apart. The oil was slick and messy where it touched him. Bucky’s fingers were gentle and sure against him; his metal hand tracing soothing lines up and down thigh as he worked one finger inside.

It was a strange sensation. Definitely different, new, not bad. Steve adjusted to it with ease. With the second finger came discomfort, pleasure flirting along the boundary of pain and Steve gripped at the edges of the table. Bucky stopped what he was doing.

“Steve?”

Steve forced himself to take a breath and relax. He _wanted_ this.

“I’m fine, keep going.”

“Here hold on…let me.”

Bucky added more oil to his fingers and slid them back in. Only this time he twisted and crooked them searching for something.

“Fuck!” The curse slipped out without Steve meaning it to. He pushed back against Bucky’s fingers wanting to experience whatever that had been again. It shouldn’t be possible that one spot could make him feel so intensely. Steve became impatient for more than just Bucky’s fingers.

Bucky continued to stretch him, filling him up and it wasn’t enough. Steve wanted more. After the third finger Steve decided he was prepared enough and was going to convince Bucky as much.

“I’m ready Bucky, come on I need you.” He was panting and still gripping the edges of the table.

Bucky must have felt just as strung out because he was agreeing sooner than Steve thought he would. Steve could hear him slicking himself up and he realized this was happening. They were really going to do this.

This was one of his most intimate fantasies brought to life. It was overwhelming and it hadn’t even started yet. Steve may have been on the verge of hyperventilating had he been allowed to think about it longer. He didn’t have the chance; Bucky took one of Steve’s hands and held it, resting their clasped hands on Steve’s stomach. The metal of Bucky’s arm was cool; the contrast felt nice on Steve’s heated skin.

“You’re still sure?” he asked. His eyes were wild. Steve could tell he was desperate to keep going and here he was proving to be the same old Bucky who worried too much.

“Course’ I am.” He hooked his legs around Bucky and urged him forward. “Please.” He added because he knew Bucky wouldn’t be able to resist that. Bucky never let go of his hand as he lined himself up and inch by inch entered him.

“ _Steve_.” Bucky said his name with such reverence.

It was unlike anything Steve expected. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. Bucky was rigid above him, eyes closed, an indescribable look on his face. He felt full and knowing that it was _Bucky,_ filling him up and making him feel this way made it even better.

“You gotta move.” Steve was going for a light tone but it ended up being strained.

“Give me a second or this is gonna be over a lot sooner than you thought.” Bucky sounded just as bad.

Bucky gave a small, experimental thrust that caused both of them to moan. Steve pressed his heels further into Bucky’s back, encouraging him to move faster.

Bucky’s other hand went to grasp Steve’s hip, holding him in place. His pace became deeper and harder right away. It had Steve arching up off the table and pushing back to meet his thrusts. Steve savored every rush of pleasure, every noise Bucky made as he buried himself further and further inside him, every mark and ache that he felt. Steve wanted to look in the mirror tomorrow and see the proof this had happened.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel amazing around me. It shouldn’t be this good, why didn’t we do this before? Ahh, _christ,_ I’m not going to last.” Bucky was rambling between moans and Steve wasn’t following much of what he was saying. He was too lost in everything else. It felt like Bucky was surrounding him, was all he knew. His taste was in Steve’s mouth, his voice in Steve’s ear, his touch consuming Steve where their bodies met, from what Steve could see his hair a mess and his face a study in bliss.

“So good, _God_ , Bucky I can’t-”

Steve tried to tell Bucky how he felt, how this was everything he wanted and more. Except words were too inelegant and none of them seemed to convey exactly what he wanted them to. So he settled on gripping Bucky’s hand tighter, on moaning louder and taking everything Bucky gave him. The table creaked and scraped forward with every movement.

Then Bucky changed the angle and found that spot from earlier and Steve nearly saw stars. He arched off the table with a shout; his toes curled and his release continued to build. It was too much. Steve wouldn’t be able to hold off for much longer. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him, watching him come undone. The sound of flesh meeting flesh mixed incredibly well with Bucky’s uncontrolled groans and Steve’s sharp gasps.

“Touch yourself.” Bucky was commanding and Steve obeyed without question. His hand closed around his painfully hard cock. He was already wet and leaking from the feeling of Bucky rocking into him over and over.

“Don’t want this to end, love seeing you like this.” Bucky’s movements were becoming less coordinated, more stuttered the closer he got.

Steve was going agree when Bucky let out a cry that resembled Steve’s name and came, hot and still inside him. His hips jerked in small motions as his orgasm swept through him. Bucky collapsed heavy on top of Steve and panted harshly against Steve’s chest.

The sense memory of having Bucky come inside him was more than enough to push Steve over the edge. With a couple more quick strokes Steve was coming all over Bucky and himself. He brought his arms up and held Bucky close through the aftershocks.

They didn’t need words. Everything they felt was said in the way they clung to each other, in the way their harsh breaths were all they could hear, and in the way their hands were still clasped together.

Bucky slipped out of him but didn’t move to get off of him. He shifted his head on Steve’s chest so that his hair was tickling Steve’s nose. Steve didn’t care. He felt sated and sore. And his table must have been moved halfway across the kitchen. He easily could have spent the next few days like this. Holding Bucky close, keeping him safe in his arms.

That unfortunately was unrealistic and they had to get up at some point. For now though, Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss against Bucky’s sweat damp hair. Content in enjoying what he had in this moment.

 

**

“Were you going to say goodbye before you left?”

It was dark and they were in Steve’s room. They had dragged themselves to his bed a few hours ago, leaving the kitchen a mess to be dealt with later.

Despite Bucky’s skilled attempt to sneak out, Steve had woken up when Bucky got out of bed. His cheek still felt warm from where he had fallen asleep on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky had pulled a pair of Steve’s pants on and might have been looking for a shirt too when Steve had spoken.

“It’s still not safe for me to be around you Steve. I meant what I said before. I don’t know if we used to be together; all I know is _I’m_ not safe.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight but seeing you hurt so badly again, it did something to me.”

Bucky was standing beside the bed. Steve moved to take his wrist and pulled him back down so they were sitting face to face. He understood what Bucky was saying, for all they knew there could be dangerous programming for the Winter Soldier buried in his much abused mind. Steve knew the possibility existed. He also knew Bucky was too important to just let go of.

“And I meant what I said, I’m not gonna lose you again.” Steve put as much determination as he could into the sentence. He considered the rest of what Bucky said and continued. “We really weren’t together before. I think I know why you thought we were.” Steve leaned over the side of his bed to get at the boxes underneath. He came up with the navy sketchbook and carefully opened it to some of the notes.

“It was because of these right? You remembered writing some of them?”

Bucky took the old sketchbook in his hands and nodded hesitantly. “Back in the alleyway, in Bucharest when you told me that we had never done this,” he gestured to their exposed chests, “it confused me. In my head I could see the letters I had written you and then I wasn’t sure if those were even real memories.”

“So you came back here to see if you could find out.” It wasn’t a question.

Bucky traced the edges of the frayed pages. “Yes, it was a long shot but it worked out didn’t it?” He looked up at Steve with his brows furrowed as if he was concentrating on something difficult. “I think…you weren’t supposed to see these.”

“Maybe not,” Steve agreed, “I’m glad I did though.” Perhaps not at first, when the bitterness at all their lost time was sharp. Eventually Steve was sure it would fade away. Because things could be different; he had the opportunity to get that time back.

Bucky let him pick up his left hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the cold metallic knuckles. They were long past cautious exchanges so Steve was not hesitant in the slightest when he spoke again.

“I love you. I loved you too back then Bucky and I love you now.” He said it simply with conviction.

Bucky drew in a shaky breath. He twisted his hand out of Steve’s grasp and used it to pull Steve closer. He claimed Steve’s mouth with demanding strokes of his tongue that had Steve clenching the sheets. His heartbeat picked up speed and he ran his fingers through Bucky's hair.

“Why would you even want to be with me?” Bucky breathed when they parted. “My head is a mess and the things I’ve done…some stuff you can’t come back from.” He rested his head against Steve's shoulder.

“Because you’re my best friend and I’ll always choose you, no matter what.” Steve held Bucky close to him. “Let me help you Buck.”

Bucky muttered into his collarbone. “I could still hurt you.”

“I’m not so easily broken.” Steve was stubborn and wasn’t willing to give this up without a fight. “You gotta let me at least try.”

And unlike before when Steve asked this, in that alley where Bucky had first kissed him, Bucky sat back to face him and quietly said, “Okay.”

Steve’s smile was bright and wide. For the first time in a long time Steve felt pure joy. “Okay” he said back. Bucky’s answering smile was smaller but no less genuine.

Steve pulled him completely back into bed. Bucky laid back and let Steve wrap his arms around him, head coming to rest back against Bucky’s chest, one of his legs tangled between Bucky’s.

Despite everything they had gone through, the veritable hell Bucky had been put through; God, just maybe they could have this. Just this one happiness because Steve couldn’t think of anyone he needed more than Bucky. And maybe because, at least a little, they deserved it. The rest they could figure out together like they always used to. Somehow, Steve was confident, they would manage.

He was settling in to sleep when he heard Bucky. “You know I feel the same, that I love you too?”

Steve smiled against his skin. “Yeah I know.”

 

**

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh this was only supposed to be like 12,000 words at the most? Oh well. Thanks for taking the time to read it! I hope you guys liked it, let me know what you thought~! 
> 
>  


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